


By all means, call us exotic

by Elyssian



Series: [K]ollection [3]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6614323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elyssian/pseuds/Elyssian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anthology of EXO based short fics, which will include extensions of birthday fics and disposed drafts of other works. Or, a fic dump</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Foreword

Chapter Index and Summaries: (All chapters are incomplete unless marked as such)

2) Witch Night  
Fate/Stay Night AU, TaoHun. Sehun is a mage of horrible skills and he's been shoved unceremoniously into a magic war. That's where Tao, a gucci obsessed and panda loving assassin, comes in.

3) In memory of the past  
Pathcode/Mama AU, KaiHun. Sehun runs away from bad memories and Jongin chases him to the ends of the earth.

4) Null Orders  
Spy AU, Sehun-centric. With the rest of his team declared MIA, Sehun falls into a dangerous conspiracy and has to juggle fighting for his life and fighting for his family.

5) Airports and heights [Complete/snippet]  
Random AU?, SuKris. Junmyeon and Kris arrive in an airport and Junmyeon settles for whacking Kris in the head.

6) Not my boyfriend, bitch  
The Wicked + the Divine AU, Baeksoo.  
They're looking for the last god to complete the twelve, and Baekhyun is not offering up his boyfriend for the post of Satan thank you very much.

7) Dust and Sand  
Deity AU, Luhan centric   
As a god, Luhan was once the strongest and most feared. Now, Luhan is just one of many forgotten deities. Or at least, that's what he thought. There comes one foggy dawn where a sound Luhan hasn't heard in centuries reaches him through his last shrine- a prayer from the most unlikely of individuals.

8) Deer- I mean dear, put the arrows down.   
Hunter AU, XiuHan  
Luhan brings back a wounded hunter to his home and the quiet man grows on him. Too bad that his suitor wants him back.

9) Distortions in the mirror  
Black Rock Shooter AU, TaoHun  
Tao dreams about another world, mirror to his in the strangest ways, and may or may not be in love with the boy who inhabits it.

 

 

 


	2. Witch Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate/Stay Night AU, Tao/Sehun.

Sehun isn't expecting much, which is not the kind of mentality he's supposed to have when he's being sent out to a war. Then again, his family isn't expecting much from him either. The servants were eyeing him with unveiled pity before they left the manor, and his relatives had looked at him with distaste. His aunt and uncle had looked a little _too_ relieved at having him sent off.

The manor is his alone for the duration of the war, a stronghold that echoes loneliness in it's halls and abandonment in the stale air of each room. Sehun's room and the atelier are the only rooms with something other than bare floors and barer walls. What passes off as the dining-living room is minimalistic at best. Sehun ghosts through the kitchen to peek into spotless cupboards and a fridged stocked with nothing beyond two sad water bottles. Sehun envision numerous trips to the convenience store in the near future. If he lives, anyway.

The Exordium Wars have been going on for a long time, long enough to have entire bloodlines dedicated to supporting it, be it by providing participants or providing arenas. It's held every generation, all over the world, and Sehun has the misfortune of being in the right generation and the right area.

He's expected to lose without ‘bringing immeasurable shame unto his family’ or for that matter, the country, because this year is some sort of pride-fight against China. Which will impossible for him, since Sehun has only ever been good at wind magic and _wow how pathetic was that, to be stuck on elemental magic._

But despite knowing his chances Sehun doesn't really have another option in the wings, an alternate scenario in which he lives without worrying about century old death-matches. So Sehun waits till nightfall, when he can summon a servant without painting a neon sign above his house and stop delaying his inevitable death.

Sehun waits with his legs crossed, seated across the atelier doors with what might be his last bubble tea in his hand. Beyond the hardwood carvings is his summoning stage, a square of paper weighed by sigils and mantras, embedded with magic. There should be a catalyst there, a guide stone for the Exordium to base a servant on. It is perhaps testament to how much his family hates him that there is empty air above the dais where his catalyst is supposed to be.

Sehun's alarm rings. He looks down at where it's vibrating on his lap.

It's 8pm, precisely.

“Well, might as well.”

Sehun gets up, setting his cup down and letting his phone slide to the mat. He pads slowly to the atelier, sliding the door open and close quietly.

The atelier is lit by gems, which casts a soft, multicoloured glow around the room. If Sehun were to sit here and pore over the many scrolls, he would need candles. Electricity doesn't react well to magic and vice versa, but maybe he'd bring in the torchlight. It fared better than his first phone anyway. But Sehun isn't here to read.

He's here to summon.

* * *

 

Ten minutes later and Sehun considers saving his opponents the trouble and just throwing himself under a train because. What. The. Hell.

“Hello!”

Sehun is one hundred percent sure he did this right. He had the right runes, he checked. He had the right chant because he read that off a paper. Hell, he had the right mana and the right channels so why had this happened?

Curious, the servant tilted his head at Sehun. He was polite enough to keep himself folded atop the dais, still smiling childishly.

“It's nice to meet you master-who-doesn't-seem-very-happy-to-meet-me.”

Sehun feels like apologising, because now he sounds like a kicked puppy. But then the servant deals the final blow.

“I'm Zitao.”

“Fuck, you really are Chinese.”

* * *

 

“Summon a Korean they said. It'll be easy they said. The fucking Exordium will do it for you they said.” Sehun muttered under his breath.

The cashier staff looked up from her phone to make sure he wasn't stealing anything and went back to what looked like a heated moment in Candy Crush. Sehun was sure she couldn't hear him grumbling about the big secrets of magic with one ear plugged with music but Sehun supposed it was time to stop swearing and actually pay for the food.

_Oh, rice balls!_

“Stay immaterial!”

There was a pouty sigh in Sehun's head. He could practically see it  

_Alright. I wasn't planning to pop out anyway._

Sehun had kept Zitao in his immaterial form, since Zitao's outfit had resembled a low-key ancient Chinese general cosplay and Sehun had found rather quickly that he had what could be loosely defined as ‘itchy fingers’.

After a five minute panic attack induced by the fact he had a Chinese servant when by all rights he should have summoned a Korean servant, he'd calmed down enough to see that Zitao had his hands in the atelier trunk and was happily trying to rearrange some ver expensive artefacts into an art installation.

“No- oh my god- stop, why are you doing that?”

Zitao had batted his eyelashes at him and informed him, very seriously, that he had just felt like doing it.

Okay, Sehun said. This guy is staying away from everything in the house that costs above a hundred won, Sehun swore in his head.

Sehun managed to pay for his purchase before Zitao spoke up again, back to his happy tone Sehun had trouble associating with his face. He looked like gang leader, with the depth of his eyes and the handsome shape of his face.

 _Master, we should at least get a plan,_ Zitao grumbles. _You aren't planning to die are you?_

“Well,” Sehun confesses, “I didn't really have any plans for surviving.”

_Ha! Funny!_

_…wait-_

There's a sputter of shock resounding through Sehun's head as the servant realises he's dead serious. 

Zitao materialises in a pop of magic, dark red and gold cloth spiralling out of empty space.

“What.” He asks flatly. Sehun sighs and explains.

“I'm pretty weak. My family is expecting me to die in the war and I… agree. I'm sorry Zitao, but you lost the draw in masters.” Sehun admits with a shrug. “I'm the weakest participant here.”

Zitao loses the pout, the childish smile, and his expression sharpens.

“You, however, got the best draw in servants.” Zitao scoffs. “I'm the strongest.”

“Really?” Sehun says dryly. Zitao notices the wry crinkle of his eyes and motions to something behind him, huffing.

“I'll show you. Let's start with this guy.”

Sehun notices a little too late that the streetlights have been tinged purple with magic and sound has separated itself from the dimension.

“Well fuck.” Sehun says, as an arrow comes flying at his head.


	3. In memory of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pathcode/Mama AU, KaiHun  
> Escaping from a past of imprisonment, Sehun is chased by Jongin, who just wants to bring him home.

Sehun was in Edinburgh.

He had been in England a few days before, but someone had gotten too close, lighting up his mark in grey, and Sehun had fled into the next country. He'd face them someday, but someday wasn't anywhere soon in his book. (He never look Minseok in the eye ever again, not after Luhan.)

Sehun waited with bated breath, but whoever it was had remained in England and Sehun had decided he'd save his strength in Edinburgh.

Edinburgh was nice. It was crowded, just the right type of crowded for getting lost and having no one talk to you when your head was down. Just the right type of busy that occupying a freshly abandoned motel had been easy and staying easier. Just the right type of city, with clusters of buildings, that would stop the brunt of the wind's call.

If Sehun couldn't hear it, it would be easier not to miss it.

* * *

 

Jongin moved towards England slowly, hoping he would take that as a sign of peace.

He didn't. 

When he ran, Jongin decided to wait. He could wait, as he had for three years, but once he'd gotten his energy back he'd catch him and finally bring him back. 

* * *

 

Sehun had entertained the idea of a job once. A job meant money and less stealing. But a job also meant, in most cases, stability. He was too much like his former element, the idea of being grounded uneasy and stifling. Sehun needed to run whenever he could, wherever he could.

Sehun ran around Edinburgh often, making it a point to get himself lost. He needed to concentrate more when he was lost. If he could think about something that wasn't home, far away in another continent, he would be fine. Because if he thought about Seoul he'd think about them (which wasn't a bad thing) which would lead to thinking about the labyrinth (which was a bad thing). 

Sehun loses himself in Edinburgh's aged soul almost every day, first opening his eyes to an azure washed sky (he can't help but feel it's wrong, that it should be a lighter shade like Seoul's) and falling asleep with stars swimming in the pitch sky outside his window.

And then, Sehun will dream.

* * *

 

Jongin knows he's being watched, that every camera that falls on him snaps a picture or takes a video without their owner's control and every picture and video deletes itself without notice.

One day, late into March, Jongin picks up a telephone in a booth and whispers harshly into the line, knowing he'll be heard.

“You can stop that Jongdae. Tell Junmyeon I don't appreciate the babysitter.” Jongin breathes in and adds his last words. “Either I come back with him or I don't come home.”

Jongin slams the phone back into it's cradle and the next day the lens stop.

* * *

 

Sehun dreams in colour when he's tired and sees monochromes when after the days the wind is too strong and he locks himself in his room.

His colour dreams don't make sense. It's too pastel to be real at times, and other times it's too bright. He starts of on a street, walking to a destination he knows and yet doesn't know, because the white house at the end is one he's never seen. In his dreams, Sehun will pass into an unfamiliar porch with a sense of Deja Vu, opening familiar glass doors he's never seen before and walking down a hallway that slips through his memory.

Sehun will see the toys first, idling in the air as if gravity dared not touch them, and then he will see the boys. Sehun doesn't even why he's seeing them as boys when he's known them as adolescents, then as adults (then as names on gravestones) but he'll recognise them somehow and his gut will sink and the dream will go askew. There will be wind in the house, breathing unrest into the furniture and shaking everything down while the sky outside darkens. 

Sehun will look, and he'll see _it_ chasing him and he'll run knowing he'll never make it.

When Sehun wakes, he'll remember only Luhan and Kris, and the tears on his cheeks will let him know he's had that dream, because Sehun always wakes up screaming into the sheets when he's had the darker dreams.

In his other dreams, he's back in the labyrinth. 

He's lost, and every coner he turns there's a body at his feet. He counts _one, two and three_ and he ends the dream when he counts _nine, ten, eleven-_

* * *

 

Jongin chooses April 12th, because it means something and not because he has enough strength for the trip. London has been colourless, and it's bled his emotions dry. Jongin needs a little something meaningful.

Jongin closes his eyes and remembers Sehun. He remembers seeing him through the mirrored walls of the dance studio at school first, then seeing lips curl in delight around a cup of bubble tea and Jongin will remember brown hair caressed so very gently by the sunset light. Then images of Sehun smiling as they wrapped christmas gifts, Sehun waking up in the school dorms with drool on his cheek and his hair fluffed and Sehun the first time he'd told Jongin to _look, see what I can do,_ and paper windmills they'd had to make for class started flying around them in graceful spirals.

(He tries to forget the screaming he'd heard on the other side of the labyrinth walls, so close yet so far, and Jongin hadn't been able to teleport there and save him-)

_Look, Jongin, look._

“I'm looking.” Jongin whispers to his memories. He feels the tug, finally, and he melts into the shadows.

* * *

 

When Sehun wakes to the feeling of fingers caressing his face, he doesn't panic because even after three years he'll never forget Jongin's touch.

“Hey.” Jongin's voice is soft and cracked from lack of use. Sehun spies the out line of disheveled hair and a soft smile in the dawn light. Jongin stops tracing the contours of Sehun's face and leans down for a kiss. “Happy birthday.”

Jongin sits back up, Sehun's lips still parted, and lifts one hand to trace his cheek. Sehun feels runs his thumb down a ridge of bone and smiles.

“Long time no see.”

The sun peaks out further over the buildings of Edinburgh, and it's light fights to get past the curtains. 

“I came to- to ask.” Jongin says, running his teeth over his lips.

Sehun slows his quickening breath and breathes out with difficulty. “Ask, then.”

“You feel like coming home yet?” Jongin asks quietly, with insecurity in his voice. Sehun's breath hitches and he thinks, he tries thinking, about how much he misses home and if that's enough. If it's enough seeing Junmyeon, Baekhyun, Tao and Chanyeol again, when every time he sees them all he'll remember are gaunt faces framed by high walls and endless corridors. Sehun thinks, and he asks carefully  

“With you?” 

Jongin breathes in relief and as he gathers Sehun up in his arms, Sehun hopes that this'll be enough.


	4. Null Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy AU, Sehun centric.  
> Withe rest of his team declared MIA by the organisation, Sehun attemps to take revenge into his own hands but ends up involved in the spy conspiracy he never wanted to know about.

The last details Sehun recalls when he tries are the stars on Kris's collar and Yixing's tired face. The stars are part of Kris's disguise, some marker for the standing his alias is supposed to have amongst guests of the party they're infiltrating. Kris is waiting at the door for Yixing, who's stepping out of the bathroom after a quick wash up.

“Hyung, are you gonna be okay?” Sehun had asked, because Yixing just flew in from a mission in China an hour ago and splashing water on his face isn't going to do much about the way his shoulders are sagging and his eyes are drooping.

“I'll be fine.” Yixing says, somehow still smiling. “Hold the fort for us okay?”

Sehun said _yes, obviously he could hold the fort_ , tried not to show how peeved he was that they were going without him and said _goodbye, have fun._

When he woke up the next day, Lee Taemin was knocking on his door. Sehun ripped the door open, ready to swear because it was three am in the morning-

“Sehun? I'm sorry.” He said, blinking heavily to hide his watering eyes.

“What?”

“We lost them last night.” Taemin says softly. “I'm so sorry.”

* * *

Twelve hours later, someone dispatches Krystal Jung to drag him out of the computer labs so he can stop running over mission briefs, mission coms, mission reports-

“Sehun?” She says from the doorway. Once upon a time, it had been Sehun and Jongin in that doorway, watching her scroll through the organisations last files on her sister. Jessica had dissapeared in a fiasco in America, and it'd veen such a mess they hadn't even known why it had gone wrong in the first place. She knows what he's going through, so when Sehun doesn't reply she leaves him there in peace. Sehun isn't going to find much beyond what he already knows, she reasons.

It's just another mission gone south.

Krystal reports that Sehun is fine to the inquiring authorities and goes with Amber to the gyms. The inquiring authorities do not divulge their real reasons for inquiring about Sehun.

* * *

 

Sehun was looking for revenge.

Not words to live by, but revenge was the only words he could taste on his tongue now, the only word that wasn't bland and grey.

Sehun had been looking for revenge, and he found much more than that.

* * *

 

When the silent alarm, the alarm that meant infiltrations and compromises, sounded into Jung Soo's ear he'd pulled up the alarm brief expecting-

Something. Something that wasn't this.

He'd paged the guys upstairs, just to be sure, but he'd gotten very curt words in response.

 _Follow your orders with discretion_.

“Ah shit.” He sank further into the lounge couch and motioned for Jongwoon and Heechul.

“Dude, we're on break.” Heechul whined. Jung soo sighed. He sympathised, but they needed to settle this before the guys upstairs decided to hand it off to, heavens forbid, the newbies. Jung Soo lowered his voice.

“We've got orders.”

“Bad orders from the sound of it.” Jongwoon grumbled.

“It's a silencer mission.” Jung Soo pulled up the orders and Jongwoon swore.

“He's just a kid.” Heechul protests.

“I know.”

* * *

 

Sehun had enough paranoia to be running when he got clipped in the shoulder.

He figured that hacking that deeply would set of an alarm, but he'd been so absorbed processing the content he hadn't made it three blocks before he got sniped and Heechul was coming at him from the shadows.

“Sorry kid.” Heechul said, and he really did look sorry, with none of that mission-mode blankness on his face. Sehun felt a little guilty for activating his cuffs.

“Me too.” Sehun said as two white bands leapt from his wrists and snapped around Heechul's neck with a buzz. Sehun turned and ran the second Heechul dropped from the shock.


	5. Airports and heights [COMPLETE]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambigous AU, KrisHo.  
> A very random short featuring Junmyeon and Yifan in an airport.

“… I can see that you're totally sleep deprived which makes sense since you've been on a really long flight but I am so excited to have you guys here so I'm just going ramble if you don't mind, which you don't because you're so sleep deprived nothing I'm saying is being registered in your head which is fine by me since I'm really just blabbering on and on…”

Joonmyeon, the miraculous man he was, nodded at half the correct intervals and tried his very best to force his eyes open and look at the guide. He managed a very convincing face of interest. Yifan on the other hand…

Joonmyeon looked to his left and, lacking the ability to swear, blinked. 

Yifan was gulping down milk from an opened baby bottle, the baby in question eyeing him from his stroller. The parents were no where in sight, and did not come into sight until Yifan had screwed the suckler cap thing back onto the bottle, handed it back to the baby and walked away slightly more awake than he had been five minutes ago. 

Joonmyeon shuffled after him, mind still half on the chatter of their very enthused guide. When what Yifan did finally registered in Joonmyeon's head, he tiptoed up and hit him hard on the back of the head. It must have been hard, since Yifan jerked forward and clamped a hand over his skull, but clearly not hard enough as he teetered back with a lopsided grin under his sunglasses. 

“You had to tiptoe to do that right?”

Jyunmeon glared and solemnly said, “One of these days, I will knock your teeth out. You just wait Fan.”


	6. Bitch, not my boyfriend.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wicked + The Divine AU, Baeksoo.  
> In which twelve people are doomed to ressurect every generation to fight each other to the death and all Baekhyun wants is to keep Kyungsoo safe.

Baekhyun is too nervous, to wound, to tell his legs to slow down. The tension is bleeding adrenaline into his veins, pumping into his legs and spurring his body forward where his mind cannot. He ends up arriving early, though he knows Junmyeon was probably earlier.

Baekhyun corrects himself when he slides into the quiet cafe. Them. Three people have come for him. Baekhyun considers turning around, running away as he has for the past twenty years, but he can't resist Junmyeon's pull. Junmyeon is leader, his leader, and when he calls Baekhyun always comes.

“Baekhyun.” Junmyeon says softly as he gingerly slides into the seat across. Jongdae, seated on his left, moves to stroke his hand ij comfort but retracts it when Baekhyun twitches his hand away. Baekhyun almost felt sorry when he saw Jongdae's face drop, and small lines of electricity began jumping across his hands. Chanyeol keeps his lips pursed and his arms folded, and Baekhyun slightly appreciates how hard he's trying not to glare.

“My answer is still no by the way.” Baekhyun begins.

“Saying no is your right.” Jumyeon agrees, and he opens his mouth again, to say something passive that would have eased them. But Chanyeol interrupts, like a sudden burst of fire.

“Your side is two people short of being completely gathered by now.” He growls. “We'll have to fight soon.” He continues, and Baekhyun's stomach churns. He turns to Jongdae for confirmation.

Jongdae has paled, and his fists are curled tightly against the table.

“Oh,” Baekhyun breathes. “I see.”

* * *

 

Baekhyun barely manages to leave with his resolve intact. He almost took back his refusal when Junmyeon's face fell, when Jongdae's fists tightened (because he did not look up again for the entire meeting) and Chanyeol had left with mechanical movements and stinging words.

_Then I guess we die._

Baekhyun resists the urge to snap, because Chanyeol's opposite in their never-ending war had always been him, a battle of phoenixes, but Baekhyun remembers that if it won't be a phoenix who kills him, it will be a dragon _and jesus christ Chanyeol after all these years you still love him-_

Baekhyun is jolted out of his thoughts when the door clicks open under his palm. When did he reach home? He's lucky his muscle memory's good.

“Baek? You okay?”

Baekhyun banishes his guilt. There is a reason he says no, over and over again.

“I'm fine. What's wrong?”

“You're being quiet today.”

“Is that so?”

Baekhyun laughs, slipping his shoes off. He can smell the familiar scent of kimchi pasta and follows the scent to the kitchen. Kyungsoo would greet him when he can, but leaving the stove unattended is a big no in his books so Baekhyun has to be the one to come up behind him, wrapping long arms around a shorter chest and stealing kisses.

 _For you_ , Baekhyun thinks as Kyungsoo's full lips tug press into him. _I'll never give you to them._

* * *

 

Traditionally, there are twelve.

The tale is etched deeply into Baekhyun's mind, a prophecy that spirals from his genes and bleeds into his dreams. There was a tree, _the_ tree, the great tree of life. It was the brightness thing in the universe, the pillar to which all gazed upon in reverence.

And there were, on each of twelve branches, one fruit. Each fruit was one aspect of the tree's power, one facet of life. Water, air, light.

One day something dark began to eat at the tree. Black and red and rotten evil. It took hold of the tree and threatened to poison it, to poison all that existed. The tree them made a choice.

It split, and the twelve became two sets of six. _(Tearing, aching, blinding pain as he became hollow and incomplete-)_

It threw it's rotted half to the darkness, keeping it away from the light and left six of it's fruits, it's children, to their doom. Fire became less a phoenix and more a destroyer, and lighting deteriorated into a creature of raging storms. (He had cried, Baekhyun remembered. He had heard him, all the way from his half. _I don't want to hurt anyone,_ he had screamed, in ragged sobs.)

But most importantly, the earth became weighted down, and he had sunken into the depths of his kingdom and he was no longer the person who swept across fertile lands but he who wrought the ground with tremors.

He became the underworld.


	7. Dust and sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deity AU, Luhan centric  
> As a god, Luhan was once the strongest and most feared. Now, Luhan is just one of many forgotten deities. Or at least, that's what he thought. There comes one foggy dawn where a sound Luhan hasn't heard in centuries reaches him through his last shrine- a prayer from the most unlikely of individuals.

As a god, Luhan was one of twelve.

He was the flower of the west, splendid and merciless, one hand leashing war and the other leashing lust. He was courted by the winter, favoured the winds, companion to the shadows and seated to the immediate right of the dragon king. Luhan's festival fell at the second month on their people's calendar, and villages would offer him the finest of deer and finer young men in temples. They would pray to him for favour in wars that took place in a city's walls, or the simpler confines of their homes. Women would pray to him, for strength, and the men would pray for the women to bear healthy children for them.

As a god, Luhan had been powerful.

* * *

 

Luhan wakes from a dream of swirling frost and playful winds, a dance of shadows at his feet as he leans against the warm hide of a dragon. He hears a river's rush and feels a soothing warmth that makes flowers bloom, and there are bright birds in the sky above, fire and light chasing lightning tails.

Luhan wakes from the dream feeling pleasant, and sours when he remember it was the night before Yifan left Suho crying after him on the palace stairs. Luhan supposes that it is not his right to feel bitter, since he had done the same some few months later.

It had been Sehun who cried, while Xiumin stared after him blankly.

“Fuck this.“ Luhan grumbles as he tries to sink back to sleep. Why had he woken in the first place? There was nothing for him in this new era, nothing but a pathetic excuse for shrine for no one to worship.

“O Luhan, I beg for your protection…”

Luhan snaps into wakefulness. A prayer.

“If you are still he who runs blood through the west, who brings swift ends to the quarrels of a dynasty…”

Luhan lets the words run through him, a weak tremor that is so much better than nothing. These are the right words, the sane words from his priests and priestesses thousands of years ago…

“Help me, damnit. I know you're in there.”

But this mocking tone? It is no human bowed before the foot of his tiny shrine.

“Only you,” Luhan sighs as he pulls his existence in and materialises beside the tree sheltering his shrine. “You and that brat Baekhyun, who would ask for help in a such a mocking manner.”

Chanyeol smiles at him, weak but wry, through untamed hair and baggy eyes. Luhan can't judge though- he's sure that between the two of them, he looks worse.

“No need to bite my head off.” Chanyeol laughs. “You don't smite down people who come looking to you for help do you?”

“Depends on my mood.” Luhan says, bearing his teeth. “I might be doing the world a favour. You're breaking heavenly law, coming here to see a fallen god.”

Chanyeol snickers. Luhan knows his habit of assuming he's above the law, but this isn't a matter he finds amusing. Heavenly law was… strict, to say the least.

“How can heaven dictate us when it no longer exists?” Chanyeol sneers, something broken in his eyes.

Luhan peels himself away from the tree warily. “What happened?”

“We fell.” He said. “We all fell.”


	8. Deer-I mean dear, put the arrows down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Period AU, XiuHan  
> Luhan brings back a wounded hunter to his home and the quiet man grows on him. Too bad that his suitor wants him back.

Minseok spent the first night running.

He'd swept over the dry, twig ridden earth of his once home until the dirt cooled and became damp, and the fallen branches became a rug of crackling leaves. He'd run through the night till the fire was no longer warming his back and collapsed at a river when dawn sent soft rays of light streaming through tall pines. Minseok laid himself out on the lip of the river, breathing hard, letting the rush of water cool him and the morning fog tickle his nose.

_Hey, don't sleep here._

Minseok's eyes briefly fluttered open. He could make out something brown and equine-faced through his hazy vision.

“Hey, you'll fall sick with those injuries.”

Minseok blinked and the image in the haze faded. There was person now, his face with the suppleness of a woman but the lines of a man.

“Hey, are you even listening?”

Minseok was not, because by then he had fallen into slumber.

* * *

 

“Hunters. Getting themselves into all sorts of needless troubles-”

When Minseok woke, the peach sky had been replaced by tightly woven vines and the tang of herbs had chased away the scent of heady morning dew. Minseok moved his hand experimentally, lifting it to his eye, and in a moment the hut owner was upon him.

“You! Don't aggravate your injuries!” The man said, pushing his hand down and tucking a blanket over it. “Wait here.”

‘ _Here’ as opposed to where, it's not like I can move,_ Minseok wanted to say but his throat had become dry and the air he had tried to gather for his voice made it sting.

“Here.”

Despite the gentleness of his features, Minseok found himself being pulled up firmly as his companion brought a bowl to lips. Minseok took a sip, grimaced, but kept sipping.

“Great. You know how medicine works.” He snarked. Mineok bristled and shot back. “Who are you, again?”

“The person loaning you his bed.” He scoffed, putting away the bowl. “I'm Luhan. I found you by the river.”

Then Luhan asked, in a suddenly much softer tone, “Did you come from the village in east forest?”

Minseok tensed and bit out a clipped yes.

“Okay. Rest for now alright?”

* * *

 

Yixing comes back with a sack of herbs just minutes after the stranger falls asleep.

“Did he wake up?”

“For a while,” Luhan sighs. “I didn't catch his name but he is from the east forest.”

Yixing rubs a hand on Luhan's shoulder as he passes by, easing tension from strung shoulders. Luhan fixes his gaze on the far off figure of Yifan in the sky, circling over the remains of what would have once been this stranger's home.

“He's welcome to stay with me if you're uncomfortable.” Yixing offers.

Luhan looks back at the man, his features still wrought with anguish even in sleep, and recalls the shadow of crystalline snow in his eyes when Luhan first found him.

“It's fine.”

* * *

 

Later, when Minseok wakes without his head ringing and his body feeling detached, Luhan brought him out to the village.

“Well, I live in a smaller section of it.” Luhan said as he sat Minseok down on a large stone outside the doorway. The burns hadn't healed yet, and Mineok hadn't trusted him enough to tell him that these were not from the fire but the cold.

“That house is Zitao and Yifan's,” Luhan pointed out a cave and Minseok wondered if he was joking. But then again, Junmyeon had a home under the water and Kyungsoo had an abode deep the earth. It was not so unusual.  “The hut up front is Yixing's. He's our healer.” Luhan says, explaining the small gathering by Yixing's hut.

Minseok nods politely and waits for Luhan to continue. There is a catch, somewhere. The west forest have always argued with it's eastern counterpart.

“Yifan should be out and I'm sure Zitao is off entertaining the younger ones. Do you feel up to taking a walk in the forest?”

Minseok nods politely and gets up with little strain on his weakened muscles.


	9. Distortions in the mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tao's birthday fic, a Black Rock Shooter AU with ambiguous TaoHun. 
> 
> Sehun as Tao's ‘other’.  
> ??? As Kris's ‘other’.  
> D.O as Luhan's ‘other’.  
> Kai as Lay's ‘other’.  
> Baekhyun as Chen's ‘other’.  
> Chanyeol as Xiumin's ‘other’

Tao does not dream about Sehun often. Dreaming about Sehun, as Tao understands, is sign of bleak times.

The first time Tao dreams about Sehun, Yifan moves away to Canada.

Tao remembers bawling at the airport, murmured reassurances of his return and Luhan guiding him away gently so Yifan can say goodby to Yixing. The woman who has adopted Yifan from their cozy little orphanage looks away politely.

Tao falls asleep on the bus ride home, because Luhan may know how to drive but he's two years short of a license. Tao gets his first dream on that bus ride, and to this day he still remembers flickers of it.

In Tao's dream, Sehun was fighting a dragon.

Sehun is quick and nimble- all his strikes land where they should and the breaths of fire can barely catch the tails of his coat. But Sehun isn't strong, and despite focusing all his hits on the dragon's left claw, it doesn't let go of the small, luminescent form and flies away with it. Tao's dream ends as Sehun falls to the ravaged ground in despair.

* * *

 

The next time Tao dreams about Sehun, Luhan is leaving.

Luhan does not want to leave Tao, but he does want to leave the orphanage, the town and the city. It comes down to Luhan choosing his dreams, or choosing his makeshift family.

Tao tells Luhan that if he's leaving, don't say goodbye because that will hurt more.

Tao dreams about Sehun the evening after he wakes to emptied wardrobes and Yixing staring out at the rising sun, tired and grieving.

Tao remembers more details about Sehun after he wakes. Sehun wears dark clothes that had seemed darker in the underground world he had been in that dream. His discoloured hair had glowed red whenever a spurt of lava exploded too near him and the coat, supple leather that fits his shoulders snugly but hangs loose everywhere else, singes.

In this dream, Sehun is trying to escape something. The underground is closing in on him, there is something moving slowly towards him beneath the deeper earth, the unstable mesh of thin lava streams, warm rock and eerily shifting dirt. Tao doesn't know what's about the come rising out of the earthly mess and he has the feeling that Sehun doesn't know either. There is some irrational thought booming at the back of their heads, the idea that they must not see whatever it is-

A boy emerges from the earth, laden in the colours of his underground home, small with sad features. His lips, childishly full and his eyes, achingly drooped, make Sehun's heart wrench suddenly. (Luhan's face comes to Tao's mind, for reasons he cannot fathom.) The earth-boy moves his mouth but Sehun cannot hear anything, and he moves forward as if trying to reach for Sehun's hand.

Suddenly, the soil beneath his feet is being sucked away, an invisible drainage plug being pulled somewhere. Sehun changes tactics and begins running for the boy's still outstretched hand, but it is too late and in mere seconds he's gone, sucked into a pit in the dead remains of the underground.

Tao wakes with a start, making Yixing jump.

“Are you okay?”

Yixing places a hand over his forehead, but Tao bats it away weakly.

“I'm fine, gē. I'm fine.”

 

* * *

 

Tao dreams snippets of Sehun from time to time, flashes of his coat dragging along sand from a desert in a dream and his hair as the shadows of unseen pillars fall across it in neat lines. Tao wishes hard one day to dream about Sehun again, because Sehun is a mystery.

Tao dreams about Sehun the night Yixing does missing.

Tao tosses and turns in bed as Sehun navigates a maze of mirrors, chasing after smoke trails and the reflection of a dark skinned boy, never seeing more than chocolate eyes and dull lips parted around unheard words. Sehun searches until he resorts to breaking all the mirrors, making them shatter under his hands as strange winds buffet the shards into a storm. When it's over, Sehun is alone and the figure is nowhere to be seen.

When Tao wakes up, Yixing's bed is empty and it remains that way for the six months Tao searches for him and is told by every figure of authority that he must have run away.

 

* * *

 

Tao grows to see Sehun's appearance as an omen, which sucks because Sehun is fascinating and no, Tao is not infatuated with figment of his imagination.

When Tao is 18 he runs away himself, mirroring what he deduces Yixing must have done two years ago, and ends up in Seoul.

Seoul, Korea.

Tao is amazed at how far he went with carefully saved money and the consuming idea of getting away, going as far as possible. He breathes in the stiff, cold air of a metropolis in November and slips into the crowd.

Tao nears every Chinese person he can see who looks as bedraggled as he is, who understand all too well the sudden sensation of isolation that drowns you in a city where everyone speaks a different language. He asks where he might find work, shelter or food and a very helpful man leads him to one of many bars tucked into nondescript alleys where a smiling middle aged woman invites him in before telling him curtly that he gets a roof over his head as long as pulls his weight.

So starts Tao's life in Seoul, where he busses tables, perform menial labour, washes dishes and does very chore imaginable to ensure that he will not get kicked out.

Tao dreams about Sehun again the first night he squeezes into his tiny room and falls asleep on a mat.

Tao tenses, but the colours of this new dream world are oddly vibrant, in gradients of pales and reds. Tao recognises the flowing walls and unusual ceiling as large circus tent, and Sehun sits in the stands, surrounded by bright, cellophane outlines of people. Sehun looks out of place in the crowd, a still monochrome figure in the sea of frenzied rainbow. Tao notes that the cellophane figures are not swaying- they are moving, each and everyone, in erratic motions.

In the dream, Tao places himself beside Sehun and they watch the centre of the tent, where a round disc-like stage wobbles above the bottomless pit that makes up the floor of the tent. Tao watches as a winged boy, glowing white, emerges from some unseen place and perches on a swing above the stage. As the boy, bright eyes and flush cheeks, settles, he opens his mouth and begins singing in clear, high notes. Tao makes put words, but for the life of him, he can't understand any.

“I've never spoken to you before.” Tao ventures, as another winged boy joins the performance, this one wreathed in flames and with a deeper voice. “But what's your name?”

Tao knows his name, has known his name all this time like it's coded into his brain along with the instructions on how to breathe and how to blink. The inherent knowledge unsettles him, because that implies that the dream is something more.

“Sehun.”

Tao blinks in surprise when a low, scratchy voice answers him. He turns and Sehun is still looking ahead, flame and light reflected in his eyes, but there is a soft smile on his lips.

“And you're Zitao.”

Tao supposes he would know his full name. He's the product of Tao's dream, after all. Tao tries another question this time.

“Who are you?”

Sehun turns his head and looks at him admonishingly.

“I'm you, idiot.”

The two winged men on stage have turned into birds without Tao's notice, and the dream starts fading as their voices rise in one last crescendo and they come swooping down on Sehun, their laughter mixing with his echoing in through the tent. Tao wakes and the image of Sehun, with one red feather and one white feather sinking into his coat and his face broken into a wry smile, never really fades.

That same day, Tao spends his five-minute break sipping water and watching two people sing on the small bar stage, the scene oddly reminiscent of his dream. When both come over to him after closing hours, introducing themselves as Minseok and Jongdae in nearly fluent mandarin, Tao decides that maybe the dreams aren't that bad after all.


End file.
